


Strangers In My Garden

by Chaed



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Tony Stark, Background Relationships, Blood and Violence, Civil War Team Iron Man, Dysfunctional Team Dynamics, F/M, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, POV Multiple, Pepperony - Freeform, Possible Arc Reactor Comeback, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Rogers Wants To Save The Day But Sinks The Ship, Tony Stark Has Trust Issues, Tony is not your doormat, Tony-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-12-10 09:26:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11688771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaed/pseuds/Chaed
Summary: Spider-Man’s not-announcement turns into a deadly booby trap for Iron Man. With Tony and Pepper MIA Steve Rogers grows restless in his Wakandan refuge… and plays right into their enemy’s hands.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there. If you're here for drama, action and badass Tony take a seat. It'll be a sufferfest. Beware, characters have to go through a lot.
> 
> This is NOT Team Cap friendly. You've been warned. But there is a lot of Steve in here, just not making the best decisions.
> 
> Also, taking a couple of freedoms with the RESCUE protocol. Bear with me. It'll be fun.

**STRANGERS IN MY GARDEN**  
**by Chaed**

Chapter 1

“Yeah.”

Tony picked one of the many hands that jutted up. Q&A was what everybody was really here for. After the unspectacular announcement of SI Medical’s expansion the gathered media tried to tickle any last bit of headline-worthy material out of the press conference.

“Any news on Team Cap?”

Pepper rolled her eyes. Their favorite topic. Chewed any which way, it didn’t fail to enthrall the tabloids.

Tony waved his hand dismissively. “You know I can’t comment on that. Next.”

It all warped into a monotonous amalgam of voices. Pepper paid more attention to that little bulge in Tony’s suit pocket than the actual conversation itself.

With Spider-Man sending them emptyhanded into the lion’s lair that ring had materialized out of thin air.

Learning that it had been there, stashed away in Happy Hogan’s custody for years, had thrown her off her game.

The Avengers had almost cost them their relationship. New York, Ultron… Tony continually tapping into reserves he didn’t have, drawing on energy that wasn’t there. They’d barely dodged the bullet after Civil War.

It had been a bumpy road since 2009, but she’d known that when she committed to it. Eight years of patting him on the back during hangovers and cleaning up after his orgies had given her enough of a taste of what it entailed to be with Tony Stark.

That he’d carried that ring with him for the better part of their relationship - even if just indirectly through Happy - gave her a turn. They had never addressed such topics other than in bon mot. Now that it lay out it the open Pepper didn’t know what to think about it. She wasn’t sure they were ready for it. If she even wanted to. The obligations, the repercussions.

“-not funny.”

The sharpness of his last words were what caught her attention. A scale off from his media voice.

But then things picked up, fast.

One of the journalists stood, a glint of metal in his balled fist. She told herself she wasn’t yet worried. There was security. Tony wore his vest. They were prepared for this. She clutched the StarkPad closer to her chest.

“You don’t wanna do this, pal.” Tony was buying time.

A half circle opened before the man. People hassled to get out of firing range. Everybody was here for a good story, but nobody was willing to die for it.

Her headset beeped. Security was on its way. She pursed her lips watching Tony lower his hands behind the pult. She knew what he was going for. The StarkWatch. Did he have to give them a show?

The doors burst open with guards, black fatigues, latest tech, paid well enough not to botch a potential amok run. She took a step back, towards the door. Reporters swarmed like ants from a smoked hive. They’d write their frontpage articles from the safety of their offices.

The aggressor dropped his weapon.

Pepper allowed herself to exhale.

The consecutive explosion swept her clean off her feet. She hit the wall, then the ground. Debris bit into the skin of her palms.

A second detonation. She was on her back now, gasping for air. Screams and blood and the stench of scorched bodies filled the room.

She wiped red from her eye, blinking to get her focus back. Tony was to her right, not behind the pult anymore, because the pult had ceased to exist. She saw dark spots on the Armani. He’d netted the brunt of the second blow.

He stretched an arm out for her. A futile gesture. They were divided by half the room. She couldn’t tell if that was all the movement he was capable of. He didn’t make further attemps to get up.

Their gazes locked just before she felt the steel embrace of Iron Man. The disarray of the room gave way to the orderly HUD interface. FRIDAY mapped the situation before the suit fully enclosed around her.

“ _Getting you out of here, Miss Pepper.”_

The armor righted itself up. She felt the repulsors heat beneath her palms. The HUD overwhelmed her with information. Her own vitals blinked somewhere in the eighties.

“Visuals on Tony Stark,” she ordered.

FRIDAY filtered him out. He was in the same position, on his back, one arm over his chest, the other pointed at her. The reminisance of Malibu threw her in a stupor. She only shook herself free of it when Iron Man began to hover.

“Get him, FRIDAY. Pick him up.”

The HUD flashed red. The repulsors achieved working temperature. She could see a flight path being calculated in a seperate window.

“Execute order,” she urged.

“ _I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”_

“What-” She gasped. “Manual override!”

“ _You don’t have the authorization for that.”_

She was close to the roof now. A puppet on strings. She couldn’t move against the suit.

“Override!” she yelled, helpless.

 _“You don’t have the authorization for that_ ,” FRIDAY repeated, a bastion of calm. She pulled up a new window titled _RESCUE_ , but before Pepper could read that a warning sign flashed up and she was advised to brace for impact.

A third blast. Iron Man wavered, but proceeded to gain altitude. Tony now lay on his stomach, twitching, a dwarf in the distance.

Pepper tried to obtain control of her limbs, but she was locked into place.

“ _Activating stealth mode,_ ” FRIDAY said.

“I don’t want stealth mode! Turn around! Master override: Pepper Potts.” She spelled it out. Her voice shook with frustration. She lost the feed on Tony. FRIDAY told her again that she was lacking authorization.  
  
She was well above the compound by now. A fourth detonation struck the building. It began to bend in on itself.

She didn't understand. Tony programmed all his suits with the master directive to protect him when it came down to it. He’d told her as much after the showdown with Killian, when JARVIS had mistakenly identified her as hostile. It was a core command.

“Contact Tony Stark,” she tried.

“ _I can't do that,”_ FRIDAY said. “ _I’m in stealth mode. Communications are disabled.”_

FRIDAY offered her the _RESCUE_ protocol again. Pepper skimmed through the lines. She bit the inside of her cheek.

“Goddamn you,” she breathed. If Tony were here she'd strangle him.

“ _Sorry, Miss Pepper. Boss’ orders.”_

The suit was an iron prison around her. The _RESCUE_ protocol wouldn’t allow her to pilot - she was passenger only.

“Get me the room’s security feed. I need to know if he made it out of there.” The compound was a corn of sand in the desert. She couldn’t even tell if the explosions had stopped.

 _“I can’t connect to the mainframe,”_ FRIDAY told her. “ _My servers are damaged."_

Great. Pepper chewed on her lip. The scene replayed before her inner eye. The blast. Tony spasming on the floor. Was this what Afghanistan had been like?

She had a thought. “What were Mr Stark’s last orders to you before you lost connection?”

“ _He requested Mark 46.”_

Pepper glanced into the lower right corner of the HUD.

“This is Mark 47.”

“ _Mark 46 isn’t fitted for the RESCUE protocol.”_

Pepper hated that she had to squeeze every bit of information out of the AI. JARVIS, in his time, had been a lot more forthcoming. FRIDAY only shared primary data. A tight-lipped girl.

She put it in plain English. “Did he fly an Iron Man suit out of there?”

FRIDAY was silent, calculating. Finally she answered, _“I can’t confirm that.”_

Pepper mouthed a silent curse. They were getting nowhere.

“What _can_ you tell me?” she asked irritatedly.

“ _Time until destination is 32 minutes,_ ” FRIDAY offered.

“And where’s that? Our destination?”

“ _That’s classified information._ ”

She was going to short-circuit the damn suit when she landed. And once she found Tony they were going to have a serious discussion about her access rights to FRIDAY’s servers.

A sudden sting in her thigh. She twitched against her confinement. “What was that?”

A new tab opened.

“ _Preliminary diagnosis available_ ,” FRIDAY said. A holo of her body showed several hotspots. Soft tissue damage, grade 1 concussion, elevated temperature. The system rated her Green - Non Urgent.

“ _550mg naproxen-natrium was applied for your convenience.”_

She dismissed the report.

Those bombs hadn’t been meant for her.

Her throat was dry, itchy.

She thought of the ring in Tony’s bloodied suit pocket.

“He’s alive, isn’t he?”

FRIDAY tallied the chances.

_“I can’t confirm that, Miss Pepper.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

“Hey. You need to look at this.”

Steve took his eyes off the book. Wanda sat crosslegged in the leather armchair across from him, all wound up with something on her phone. He’d skirted the whole Internet vibe, but for downtime he still prefered a good old fashioned paperback. To put his nose between the pages, feel the coarse texture on his fingertips. A touchscreen couldn't hold a candle to it.

Wakanda was a hidden gem in a treacherous world, but after ten months it felt like a prison all the same. Warrants were still out on their heads. The stint on the Raft had left a lot of the big dogs enraged. The highest security jail ever built and he’d barged in there as if it were the local Walmart around the corner. He’d half expected Iron Man to crash the party but Tony had kept to himself since Siberia. Another issue irking him. And the whole Black Panther deal sounding twice as sweet as it turned out to taste.

“Steve.”

Wanda uncrossed her legs. She held the phone out to him, jumpy. This was about more than the latest baby kitten video.

He took it. Youtube. “What’s that?” It read _big blow up at new avengers compound LEAKED 1080p._

Wanda perched on the armrest of his own futon. “Here.” She hit Play.

He turned the phone sideways. Tony inaugurated the new Avengers HQ. Just because half the team were on Interpol’s most wanted list didn’t mean the Avengers Initiative didn’t continue. Those who had signed the Accords were operating still. And if rumors were true Tony was diligently recruiting new blood.

Wanda took the phone from his hands, impatient. “Let me skip to the fun part. There.”

They joined back into the final part of a press Q&A, someone asking about news on Team Cap. Steve smirked. He was sick of how the media tried to drive a wedge between them. As if Leipzig hadn’t been bad enough. They could do without the extra drama.

It was a handheld recording. Fast paced. He couldn’t make out a lot after the first detonation. Too shaky. He caught a glimpse of Tony on the ground. Civilian - no sign of Iron Man. The audio was bad too, but he counted two more explosions before the video cut out.

His blood ran cold.

He stared at Wanda. “Is this real?”

“Oh, yeah.” She typed something into the phone. “It’s all over the net. It’s _all_ that’s on the net.”

She pulled up Google news. There were several articles. _Explosive Revelations. Tony Stark presumed dead (again). New Supervillain in Town?_

Steve put away his book.

Moby Dick would have to gallivant the sea for just a little while longer.

* * *

Their options were limited. T’Challa had offered them refuge under the condition that they kept a low profile and abstained from avenging until waters calmed and they were officially pardoned (if). They were free to move about the royal residence as they pleased, but it was not to be used as a base of operations. T’Challa had been clear on that. It was his terms or none at all.

Steve had rolled with it for the better part of the year. He’d tried to knock the renegade team together. With everyone against them they at least had to watch each other’s backs.

Lang left first. He’d fled the law for the better part of his life, he argued, he’d continue doing it. On his own. He left Steve a way to contact him in case Ant-Man could be of help, but he didn’t want to be pulled deeper into personal vendettas. “No offense, buddy, but Prison Break ain't my favorite show out there.”

Clint called his farewells at the Wakandan border. He had a family on his conscience; he couldn’t keep pokering with that high of a stake. They all understood.

Natasha was a wild card. Leipzig had been the last Steve had seen of her. She could be with Tony, or Fury, or for all he knew seeking solace in the loving arms of Mother Russia.

That left Wanda, Sam and himself. Bucky didn’t count. One of T’Challa’s terms had been mandatory cryostasis until they could figure out a foolproof way to crack Bucky’s conditioning. He was too much of a risk this way, a timebomb. T’Challa had commitments to his people. He couldn't accomodate a wanted mass murderer with a three digit kill number under the hood. Bucky was the first to agree - he now slumbered peacefully in his ice-bed beneath the ground. A bizzare Sleeping Beauty.

“What’s the plan, Cap?” Sam asked. He was itching to go. Anywhere. He suffered from the worst cabin fever of them all.

Steve took a deep breath. He looked from Sam to Wanda and back. He wanted so badly to tell himself that he’d learned something from Leipzig and Siberia and the aftermath of it all. That he shouldn’t - _couldn’t_ \- always trust his gut. He scratched at his beard. A new habit.

He wasn’t going to blow this one.

He couldn’t afford to.

* * *

 

His eyes throbbed from hours of staring at the screen. He pushed back, popped his neck, stretched tight muscles. A break was in order.

They’d spent the last hours researching the situation. The internet offered every scenario imaginable, from borderline PR gags all the way to a new Alien invasion. Take your pick. Stark Industries held out on statements. Tony Stark and Pepper Potts were still missing. Sam had a list of deceased. Wanda and about half the Youtube comminity believed that Tony had evac-ed in one of his suits and was now sitting it out on Fiji or the Maledives, but there was no reliable documentation on that. Nobody had seen Iron Man leave the building.

They did find one more clip: Tony getting knocked around by the blasts. He didn’t look like he was on top of things. At all.

Steve turned to Wanda. “Could you try to…”

He pointed a finger at his head. He had yet to fully grasp the extent of her powers, but he knew telepathy was among them.

Wanda looked up from her phone, scowling. “Don’t you think that was the first thing I tried? I can reach neither of them.”

“Does that mean…?” He wouldn’t finish the sentence.

Wanda shrugged. “It means nothing. They’re on another continent. That’s a long way. And I’ve tried Stark in the past. It hasn’t really worked since after Ultron.” She scrunched her nose. “It’s like I’m hitting a wall.”

“Wait,” Sam piped up, voicing what Steve was thinking. “You’re secretly messing with our minds?”

Wanda smirked, rubbed her hands mischeviously. “Wouldn’t you like to know now?”

“Cut it,” Steve said. They had to keep their heads in the game. If they were going to leave Wakanda it had to be on good reasoning. This was a one-way ticket.

“I’ll be right back,” he told them. “Try to be productive, yes?”

There was one thing he could try. To appease his conscience.

* * *

 

He retrieved the Nokia, flipped it open to the only saved number.

He’d been waiting for it to ring a good half year now, but so far it’d remained silent. He wished he wouldn’t have to be the one breaking the iron curtain, but the situation at hand demanded otherwise. If the explosions were real, if Tony was in any way incapacitated as Iron Man the entire Avenger Initiative was at risk - and that exposed the world to a whole new set of dangers.

He tapped the dial button. Held his breath.

The mailbox kicked in. This number was presently unavailable.

Steve flipped the phone shut.

Looked like now was his chance to repent.

* * *

There was a knock at his door.

“Yeah.”

Sam poked his head in, eyebrows furrowed.

“Man, you might wanna come. We’ve got… uh…” He searched for the right term. “… a visitor.”

They were two days into the event. The Internet was briming with conspiracy theories. Tony and Pepper remained MIA. T’Challa had put in an official call for them, but lacking leadership both SI and Avengers Inc were running in circles. Nobody had yet confessed to the attack. Loose ends everywhere you looked.

T’Challa had cordoned off a small part of the residence to give them privacy. Apart from the alotted staff nobody erred this way.

Sam led the way to the common room. Two royal guards were flanking their guest.

Steve stopped in his tracks.

Well, he sure hadn’t expected that.

“I think we’re good,’ he told the escort. “Thank you.”

They waited for the room to clear. Wanda stormed in, alerted by some unknown force, ruffled hair and sleep-laden eyes. Still in her pyjamas. Wanda was a lot of things, but no early bird.

“I told you to phase through the walls,” she exclaimed, upset. “Nobody needed to know you’re here!”

Sam gaped. “You two-”

Wanda cut him off with a swat of her hand. “Don’t. Not at this hour.”

Steve ignored them, transfixed on their invitee. The mind stone glinted in the chandelier light.

Eventually he spoke.

“What is this all about?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You rocked my world with all those reviews. Didn't think so many would enjoy this! Have some more.
> 
> Still looking for a beta.
> 
> Also, does anybody know their MCU timeline well enough to tell me if Stephen Strange had discovered his love for hokus pokus during/after Homecoming yet? So not spoilering anything, I know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies, guys. An 8k+ and growing Chitauri apocalypse plotbunny had me distracted.

**Chapter 3**

Four days. Four goddamn days and that son-of-a-bitch was still off the face of the planet.

Rhodey paced, the way he’d paced for three months during the Afghanistan incident. Up and down the room. From one wall to the other. Reverse. The only difference now was the steady hum of the servos and the fact that the soles of his feet didn’t fatigue from all the pacing -- he could still barely feel them.

Which was honestly the only reason he wasn’t lying face-down in the morgue right now. An external physio check-up, of all banalities.

And hell, had he aced that.

The moment _BREAKING NEWS_ flashed across the TV he’d literally flown out of there, braces barely strapped in place. Paraplegia? No, sir. He’d have put Usain Bolt to shame.

But still he’d been too late, driving up to the Compound’s rubble the way he’d done to what had been left of the Humvee in the desert; seeing, yet disbelieving.

He searched with the same vigor he’d sported eight years prior and failed in identical fashion. Tony wasn’t there and the only lead they had were blood stains on scorched parquet.

At least this time he wouldn’t have to make that awful call. _It’s Rhodey, Pep. I lost him._

This time around they were both gone.

* * *

The Compound had been pretty much leveled to the ground. Seven explosions in total. The thought that someone had snuck in that many fireworks was distressing enough. That FRIDAY hadn’t warned anyone in advance of the big bang -- not a damn beep -- upped the situation to a disturbing level of spooky.

And that was the kind of bad that made Rhodey break out in cold sweat. Because if Tony didn’t catch on to someone molesting his tech they were well up shit creek. _Avengers, Unite!_ kind of bad, only last time he checked they didn’t have any of those on hand.

Which brought him right to the next issue.

He couldn’t get a hold of Vision, who at this point was technically Last Man Standing on the available superhero roster. He played with the thought, but quickly counted himself out of the line-up. While he could manage day-to-day on his own by now, getting back on the front-line was still very much out of the question. Last time he’d seen the suit it looked like a write-off anyway, no matter how much Tony downplayed the damage War Machine had taken in the fall.

So, scratch that one.

Vision had been on some diplomatic junket for the UN last Rhodey had heard, somewhere hinterland, southwest Africa. Wouldn’t pick up his phone, either, even though Rhodey had put it on automatic redialing. He hadn’t been seen since the conference, which had conveniently ended on the day of the attack.

Rhodey, who sometimes caught himself still thinking of Vision as JARVIS, seriously hoped that mind control slash hacking wasn’t a vulnerability he had to worry about with the android. Because Lord help him, he still hadn’t fully grasped what _exactly_ Vision was. Only that he didn't want to see him cozying up to the enemy in case he could be compromised.

Rhodey's cellphone almost vibrated off the table. He leapt onto it like a predator.

“Hey.” Hogan’s gruff voice.

The hourly update. They were about to pull FRIDAY’s servers from the ruins. It was going to be at least another day until she was rebooted, though, and they could start with defrag. No news on Tony or Pepper.

“Thank you. I’ll make some calls too. See what I can dig up on my end.”

Hogan had been en-route to New York when it happened, running some errands for Tony down in Brooklyn. Now he was organizing clean-up and did some private reconnaissance on the sidelines. Out of all people Hogan could sympathize best on what was going on and he had enough experience around Tony Stark not to lose his head about a gory video or two.

Rhodey racked his brains over whom Tony could have pissed off enough to stage such a blowout though, nevermind the pun. He’d been mouthing off to the wrong people since Rhodey befriended him at MIT. With Iron Man providing extra cushion for his already inflated ego Tony attracted catastrophe like nobody’s business nowadays.

Granted, the whole Civil War fiasco had put a bit of a cap on him, to no less degree because Rhodey knew he blamed himself for what had happened in Leipzig, no matter how often they went over the _it’s-nobody’s-fault_ pep-talk. And then came Siberia, Act Three of their little Cold War reenactment, of which Rhodey didn’t know the details apart from that Captain State Flag had done and gone it and wiped himself and his merry band of outlaws off the Avengers roster the morning Tony returned, looking like he'd been run over by a truck and hadn't gotten the asshole's number plates. 

That was as much talking about Steve Rogers as had been going on in camp Iron Man since Rhodey had lost the feeling in his legs. It was a taboo topic, through and through.

His phone made a comeback. He glanced at the screen. Not Hogan. Not Tony, either, although he knew that latter was wishful thinking.

He straightened out of habit at the voice on the other end. “Colonel James Rhodes…yessir... not yet… yeah, we’re working on it.”

He was sure the army didn’t call just to check up on him though. And he was right. If not for the braces he would have been swept off his feet.

_“What?!”_

The officer on the other end repeated. War Machine had deployed. Autonomously. It wasn't trackable. Stealth mode?

Rhodey didn’t even know it could do that, especially not after being totaled.

‘No… I didn’t…just a moment, sir.”

Clatter in his backyard. Rhodey put the general on hold, went for the Glock under the counter, then pulled back the drapes to the garden.

After the initial shock he felt embarrassment creep up. Why was he even surprised?

“Sir,” he said as he got the conversation back on line. “My fault, sir. I must have, uh, sat on the remote or something…uhm…yessir. Of course. I'll send it right back to base.”

He creaked open the back door. War Machine, refurbished to its former glory, opened up to receive its pilot.

* * *

He stood there for a good long while.

A face-off from a western flick. 

Not that he stood a chance against the suit’s armament, but for the first time since Justin Hammer had publicly hacked into it Rhodey felt uncertain about War Machine’s intentions.

He tried with the best of all available bad alternatives.

“Tony?”

It wouldn’t be the first time that Tony overrode the suit’s controls after all. 

There was no reply which only boosted his skepticism. Rhodey inched closer regardless. What was he going to do? He had a feeling the suit would follow him anyway if he decided to make a run for it. And apart from that looking terribly awkward with the braces it would also be markedly ineffective.

With his concept of an evil tech-overlord still featuring prominently in his mind he kept a close eye on War Machine’s missiles, especially the 7.62mm shoulder mount that had become the suit’s distinctive trademark. One of those meant instant game over.

Rhodey circled the suit, then tapped it provocatively with the butt of his pistol. War Machine handled it stoically… and remained open.

It couldn't relay its intent more obviously than that.

“You've got to be kidding me,” Rhodey told nobody in particular and blew out his cheeks. If this wasn’t his paranoia come alive it bore Tony’s fingerprints all over. Because of course they couldn't just use War Machine’s comms system, they _had_ to go the cryptic way.

He glanced down at his legs then, and wondered if the suit could accommodate the extra bulk of the braces. He saw no way how to leave those behind. Even if he did take them off, boarding the armor would entail a lot of crawling and pulling himself into its snug frame and he wasn’t about to undergo that kind of humiliation.

“Alright,” he said and took a step towards the armor, holding out his arms. "Gimme a hug."

War Machine crossed the remaining distance, enveloping him in titanium-alloy. The armor fit neat around the braces and Rhodey suddenly hedged no doubt that Tony had made the necessary modifications. When the HUD came alive it even showed the prosthetic mounted on the virtual body display.

There was also one unread message, emphasized by the little retro mailbox opening and closing in a pop-up window.

Huh. He hadn’t had that before.

“Open it,” he instructed

It was a text message, short and crisp.

_'Buckle up.'_

War Machine’s thrusters incited instantly.

Predictably he had no control whatsoever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will soon come together, all I ask is for a little more patience. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Sam massaged his temples. A storm was brewing, category 5 hurricane, right behind his eyeballs.

“So I don’t get this wrong,” he reiterated, squinting at the Vision. “You have no idea where Stark is, but instead of tracking down the bad guys you detour over here - conveniently hep on our secret hidey hole - just to tell us to stay out of the way? Whose fancy was that? No, let me guess—”

“It was Mr Stark’s explicit request should the situation present itself,” the Vision confirmed.

“The situation being him blown to pieces?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s obtuse, even for him.”

Wanda just looked back and forth between the two parties. Sam couldn’t be sure, but he’d bet his right hand that she was performing her mind reading tricks right about now. Getting all the uncensored off-script commentary. He wondered how much intel she could winkle out of the Vision. Speaking of, what was going on there in the first place? Wanda had been miffed, not surprised, about their unexpected house guest. Had she anticipated his arrival?

As if on cue he ended up on the receiving end of a scowl. The corners of his mouth crinkled. Ha! Hadn’t he known?

“You’re on Interpol’s most wanted list. Criminals in 158 countries,” the Vision said. “They will give you chase the moment you leave your refuge.”

Point taken. They were throwing themselves into a modern-day witch hunt if they said goodbye to T’Challa and chances were slim that they found another benefactor before the media blew up in their faces. It was going to put considerable time constraints on a possible search and rescue OP.

“We can take care of ourselves,” Steve argued, unwavering.

Sam had known him long enough to get the idea that when Steve put something in his head he pulled through with it come hell or high water. Especially when someone told him no. That was like gasoline to the fire. For being the epitome of military brilliance Captain America, out-of-this-world trooper, was deplorable at following orders.

“If Stark has it covered,” Wanda piped up. “Why risk the asylum? He doesn’t want help. You have to force it on him?”

“You showed me the tapes,” Steve countered. “Did that look like he had a handle on the situation?”

Wanda rolled her eyes. She made no secret of her grudge against Tony Stark. She was part of the Avengers - well, Exvengers now - and had kept it civil whenever cooperation between Iron Man and Scarlet Witch was required. On a personal level a deep chasm divided the two, dug by no other than one of Stark’s own bombs. It would be a long time until he could wash himself clean of that atrocity in Wanda’s eyes.

“All I am asking,” said the Vision. “Is that you consider the aftereffect of your undertaking. The Accords will be brought up against you. There will be military intervention. A calamity. Out of your hands to control.”

Sam could see how the public going topsy-turvy could play right into their enemy’s hand, whoever said enemy was. If he were to plan a strike against the Avengers, right now would be the perfect timing to go whole hog on it. Split, guideless, they were at their weakest. An assault on Iron Man, the media’s golden boy, was bound to key up the public, justly so.

However, it would also be a splendid opportunity for Captain America to ride in and save the day. Redeem himself in the eyes of his critics. Sam wasn’t sure if Steve pursued that line of thought or if he just felt like he owed Stark after Siberia. Steve had recapped that in a boiled down version of ‘things that shouldn’t have happened, did’ and that a fix-it wasn’t in sight anytime soon. It needed some needling on Sam’s side before he opened up and filled in the blanks leading up to Bucky Barnes’ missing bionic arm. Sam cut Stark some slack after that. Had it been his ma and pa in that video, he would have ripped Barnes a new one too. He told Steve as much, no hard feelings.

“We’ll consider,” Steve promised.

Wonder who had their fingers crossed behind their backs when saying that?

* * *

Sam cornered her in one of the hallways. She submitted to it, tranquil enough. She’d been expecting it.

Wanda crossed her arms, puffing up her five foot frame.

“What?”

He leant against the wall, smirking. “Read my mind.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You’re right,” he said, holding up his hands. He didn’t come to pick a fight. He certainly didn’t come to pry into Wanda’s personal life. That was dangerous territory to wander. “White flag, ok? We’re on the same team here. But I need to know what’s going on.”

She played it defensive. “Best you talk to Vision, then.”

“I want to know what you’re thinking.”

She hesitated, unsure whether he meant what he was saying or not. For all the telepathic powers she had, Wanda carried a big load of self-consciousness with her. Sam wasn’t privy to the particulars, but losing her twin brother had left its marks on Wanda. Being rejected by society for what passed as witchcraft didn’t help matters either. Alone in the lion’s den, she kept her back to the wall.

“I think it’s bigger than he lets on,” she said. “And I think we should listen to him. Stay away.”

“You don’t want to help?”

“No,” she said, but there was no rancor in her words. This one wasn’t about her discord with Stark. “I don’t want to interfere.”

There was a lot that Wanda Maximoff wasn’t telling.

* * *

“You’re gonna do this no matter what I say, right?”

He watched Steve continue to jam-pack the duffel. Red, white and blue stripes looked out from under stuffed t-shirts. He was bringing the uniform. Sam had a feeling that this wasn’t going to end up as covert an op as they had originally planned it.

He mused, grin on his face, if the paparazzi were going to comment on the patchwork repair Steve had given his outfit after Russia. God knew he’d been struggling to get the blood out of the fabric. It hadn’t been as easy as ditching it after mission end and picking a new one from the armory.

Alienating Iron Man had more drawbacks than losing public face. Say what one will about Tony Stark, but he’d backed the Avengers with money and tech like nobody’s business. While T’Challa had given them bed and bread, he flat-out refused to fund Avenging. Steve had lost his shield in Siberia and EXO-7 had been confiscated upon Sam’s arrest in Leipzig. They didn’t have as much as a handgun to take into this.

Saving the world on a budget was going to pose as an unwelcome challenge.

It took all of Steve’s superhuman strength to zip the bag shut. Sam wagered that if he poked a finger at it, it’d burst forth its innards.

“You pack the beauty case, Cap?”

“Listen, Sam.” They’d had this conversation four times already. Steve was getting annoyed. “You won’t change my mind. Something’s amiss and I’m going to investigate. Wanda’s staying. You don’t have to come. I’d understand. But I’m not gonna let this slide.”

“What about Vision?”

“He won’t stop me. He said as much.”

“He also asked you, repeatedly, politely, to sit it out. Feel spoken to by any of that?”

“We’re four days in. You weren’t part of the Avengers yet, but last time Tony was sounded off dead he played a lone hand against the Mandarin plus entourage. It got hairy, not only for him. The President was at risk.” He paused, thinking. “We’ve got, what - a dozen dead already? All aspiring thugs will want to have a go while the Avengers are busy licking their wounds. Who’s gonna stop them? Rhodes?”

That was low down. Steve realized, because he flinched at his own words. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

Sam made a cut-off gesture. War Machine’s fall was a sore spot, a first, rude slap in the face that it was all fun and banter until someone got hurt. Nothing in the world justified crippling a man that way. Steve kept preaching how they’d done the right thing, but the more time passed, the more Sam was convinced that it hadn’t been the Accords they’d crossed swords about at Leipzig Airport.

“Sam…”

“It’s alright, Cap.” He turned on his heels, unwilling to let this unfold into some personal drama, but also unable to continue the conversation right now.

He hovered in the doorway.

“Just don’t do anything stupid.”

* * *

They saw off the Vision in the morning. Sam had knocked on Steve’s door to persuade him to join them - and to bury the hatchet over the night before - but found the room devoid of super soldier, bags included.

“He left at night,” Wanda told him as they walked to meet with the Vision. When Sam’s brows waggled she added, “He’s not as hush-hush as he thinks.”

He wanted to ask her if she knew where he’d gone, but they intercepted the Vision at the helipad before he found an apt way to phrase it. Dressed in suit and slacks the red android looked oddly out of place. Sam was used to the vibranium cape, and that was fine, but any ordinary piece of clothing just emphasized the Vision’s… otherness.

“Captain Rogers departed?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, trying to quench that pang of disappointment at having been left behind. “He’s set in his ways.”

The Vision nodded. If he was bothered by the turn of events he didn’t let it on.

“What will you do now?” Wanda asked.

“Restore order,” the Vision said, as if the endeavor to uncover Iron Man’s whereabouts was as straightforward as finding a lost kitten.

The farewell itself was unexciting. The Vision didn’t particularize his plan of action and neither of them asked. Despite her disinterested attitude, Sam was confident that Wanda had more insight than she let on. He just had to find a way to tickle it out of her. Preferably before either Iron Man or Captain America suffered the consequences of overzealous, yet unprepared allies.

Wanda took her gaze off the shrinking silhouette on the horizon.

“You didn’t go,” she said. “I didn’t expect that.”

Well, that was half the truth. He would have gone after reconciling with Steve. He just hadn’t been given the option. And reaking camp in a hurry just to put a tail on him now would be half-witted. He might just as well do the reconnaissance Steve had been so eager to neglect.

“There’s more to it than meets the eye, right?”

Wanda turned to heed back inside. The corner of her mouth quirked up.

“I like this one American proverb,” she told him. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew. It's befitting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still on the lookout for a beta. Nobody?
> 
> As for the story, yeah, it's a maze. Where does Tony fit into all of this? What the heck is Vision up to? Where did Rhodey go? Is Pepper Potts still alive or forgotten about by the author? And yes, Steve is Steve, but I warned you about that at the start.
> 
> Hang tight, dear readers.
> 
> AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 

The walnut handle felt slippery against her grip.

She prayed that the glint of the damascus wouldn’t give her away.

Funny how she’d just signed over a 5-figure donation to Women Against Violence but presently had no qualms about jabbing an 8-inch knife into someone’s chest.

She crouched behind the chesterfield, one cheek pressed against the cool leather. Mark 47, remotely operated by FRIDAY, held up both gauntleted hands in threatening gesture.

The adversary was bound to arrive in 3 minutes and 42 seconds by the AI’s calculations.

Pepper eyed the steel-reinforced double doors.

The only way in or out.

If that got creamed in the looming showdown she had a ticket out of here. Given that the zealous contestant could keep FRIDAY at bay long enough for her to nick it past the suit and steal away from this backfire plan.

_“Please consider the required safety distance,”_ FRIDAY urged.

“I’m good,” Pepper said. “Disregard recommendation.” She had no intent on backing off.

Three days in the prison-shelter had her teetering on the edge of sanity. FRIDAY found perverse satisfaction in renouncing her authorization every which way. For all she knew the apocalypse came down around her and she was oblivious to it.

The timer counted down its last minute. They would have the benefit of surprise if their opponent didn’t anticipate prepared resistance. Pepper steeled herself to do what had to be done.

Pressure valves turned, bolts withdrew. The hatch-door unsealed. Nausea swamped her. Good God, she might have to murder someone. She was overtaken by hesitation. Could she really?

Pepper’s breath hitched in her throat.

War Machine’s bulky frame barely fit through the opening. It heaved out its cargo like a cat regurgitating a fur ball.

Pepper shot up from her hiding spot.

Iron Man revved up its repulsors.

James Rhodes stared at his brewing doom.

“What the—”

_“Hostile incentive—”_

“Stop!”

“Pepper!”

_“You don’t have—”_

“EMERGENCY OVERRIDE!” she roared, frenzied.

Iron Man didn't back down.

Rhodey tried frantically to clamber back into his own suit.

Pepper leapt then, escape plan consigned to oblivion, and Tony’s two-grand chef knife cleanly embedded in the crease between Mark 47’s plating.

FRIDAY turned the suit towards her. It remained passive despite the clear display of aggression on her part. The AI couldn't actively harm her — a frustrated crowbar assault earlier had unveiled that extra line of programming.

“You stupid tin can!” she yelled.

Rhodey dared to peek from behind the War Machine armor. He’d conjured a handgun from somewhere, but thought better than to openly point it at Iron Man.

“Jesus Christ. What's going on?”

“I have no idea,” Pepper said. She turned to Tony's suit. “Stand down for gods sake.”

“Voice authentication: Colonel James Rhodes,” Rhodey offered.

_“Accepted,”_ FRIDAY confirmed. Iron Man’s thrusters shut down. Pepper allowed herself a breath. She had just stabbed Tony’s suit. That had yet to sink in.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “What are you doing here? Is Tony with you?”

Rhodey frowned. “He’s not here?”

She could feel her eyes go moist but did her best to suppress the bubbling frustration.

“Nobody's here,” she told him. “FRIDAY won't let me leave! The whole place was on lockdown before you came.” A thought occurred to her. “How did you find me?” She didn't even know where she was herself.

Rhodey looked back and forth between the two armors, clearly let down in his expectations. “I thought Tony was behind this.”

Pepper drew a deep sigh. She pointed behind her, to the maw of the bunker. To the unknowing eye it looked just like another of Tony’s luxury apartments; redirected tax money, and lots of it.

“In a way he is,” she told Rhodey. “Only I think there’s a bug in the system.”

* * *

She poured him a glass of Evian while they continued to watch the suits.

Shortly after Rhodey’s arrival Iron Man and War Machine had performed some form of sync, data transmission through a port in their palms. FRIDAY then announced per intercom that all safety measures were met. They were in the green again, apparently, despite the ornate kitchen knife still sticking out between Mark 47’s shoulder blades.

“He cut no corners on this,” Rhodey said. The bunker prison was Apocalypse Now on a luxury trip. Pepper gave Rhodey the tour. Kluft mattresses, jaccuzzi bathtubs, a selection of Nappa’s finest, predestined to survive the end of the world. Leave it to Tony to turn Armageddon into a 5-star affair.

They inspected the hatch door under FRIDAY’s vigilance. Pepper had been at it with unrelenting perseverance. Had there been a way to open it, she would have found it by now. Rhodey suggested they try with the suit, but War Machine jumped ship and refused to open for its pilot.

_“You lack authorization to do that,”_ FRIDAY said.

Pepper was overcome by a deep desire to fry some circuits.

“That’s all I’ve been getting from her,” she grumbled. “For three days straight. I’m stunned she let me use the microwave.” She looked at Rhodey with big, wishing eyes. “Tell me you know how to get out of here.”

Rhodey put on an apologetic face. “Pep, I’m not even sure I understand how I got in. War Machine popped up on my doorstep with a one-liner I could have sworn was Tony’s brainchild and a cakewalk later I got Iron Man’s guns in my face.”

“You didn’t hear anything from him?”

“No. I thought…” He trailed off, since it was evident this trace had led to a dead end. He tried to cobble up reassurance in his next words. “We’ll find him. Don’t you worry.”

“Yeah,” Pepper said and sipped from her glass. “I want to show you something.”

* * *

She flicked on the 100-inch Samsung and told FRIDAY to launch the video.

Tony’s face came on-screen, sleep deprived on one of his working binges. One of the bots wheeled past in the background. The recording took place in the Tower’s workshop; a bitter pill to swallow when she had watched for the first time. Tony had disassembled it months ago, during the relocation to Avengers Compound.

_“Pep, if you see this chances are you’re quite mad at me by now-”_ Which she was, for the record. _“— and that things have gone belly-up real bad, like, I wasn’t able to protect you.”_

He stopped at that, pondering whether to particularize possible reasons of said inability. Pepper twitched at the memory of the blasts. Three, four, five, and Tony lying there like a puppet off its strings. Did he have such a scenario in mind when he recorded this?

_“The RESCUE protocol will enable JARVIS to take you to a disclosed safehouse, where you can sit out whatever fuss the bad guys knocked up. I’ll get you as soon as the ass-kicking’s over. JARVIS will run a sub-program to ensure your safety at all costs, so put your feet up and take a break.”_

He put on a lop-sided grin. _“If I don’t drop by for victory margaritas 72 hours in there’s contingencies in place. JARVIS has the particulars. I know you will, but try not to worry too much about me.”_ He stopped briefly, then said, _“Love you, babe.”_

* * *

“JARVIS?” Rhodey asked.

“An old recording,” Pepper said. She would have known without the giveaway hint too. Less worry lines, no graying temples. She assumed the chronology to be sometime post-Killian. Tony had never seen her as an exploitable soft spot before being brusquely confronted with the ‘comply-or-your-girlfriend-gets-mainlined-with-supernatural-virus’ schism.

Rhodey looked at War Machine. “Am I supposed to be the contingency plan?”

“I hope so,” she said. At this point she would be fine with Justin Hammer walking up and offering a hand. “Is he, FRIDAY?”

_“Colonel Rhodes is on the boss’ list of viable surrogates.”_

“I’m honored,” Rhodey said, sans euphoria.

“Why won’t you let us leave then?” Pepper asked.

There it was again, that predictable pause. Pepper had pried about often enough to tell when FRIDAY buttoned up simply because she wanted to be Daddy’s girl. This new form of hardihood was different. Bothersome.

FRIDAY slipped into familiar patterns.

_“You don’t have the authorization for that.”_

“She’s stuck,” Pepper conceded, disheartened. She stood to pace. “A glitch. We’re trapped here because of some faulty command line.”

Rhodey picked up on the idea, but cast it in a different light.

“And if it's not Tony's fault?”

“What do you—” She caught on to the insinuation before she was done. “Oh.” And then again, grim-faced, because that proposition was threaded with so much more weight than her initial assumption of sleep-deprived coding on Tony’s side. “Oh.”  
  
“Jim,” she started, sandpaper-throat. She rarely called him by his first name, could count the occurrences on one hand. The cocaine relapse. Afghanistan. Extremis. War Machine’s crash. “Tell me we’ll get out of this one alright.”

She glanced at War Machine and Iron Man. If FRIDAY was rigged, what did that mean for Tony? Hadn’t FRIDAY said he’d summoned Mark 46 before she lost contact? Had he been abducted by his own creation? And who was the real malefactor behind it all?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Steve pulled over, killing the engine. The Civic, a rip-off investment, wheezed with exertion.

He checked his imagine in the rearview mirror. Mets cap, wayfarers, full beard. A way’s off from Captain America’s usual groomed appearance. It might not throw off the pros, but it’d been plenty for spiritless airport staff.

He eyed up the diner, let himself in through a creaking door. A couple in the corner, some locals at the bar. Steve slid into a booth with view of the parking lot.

“Coffee?”

He went through the motions of ‘yes, please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘no milk for me’.

“I’ll be right back to pick up your order.”

He paged through the menu before setting it aside, uninspired. Maybe another seven hours, eight if traffic was slow. Then he’d hopefully know more.

“Long way from home.”

He looked up, startled. Not the waitress from before.

Blonde, frames, chewy. Natasha Romanoff lived her alter-egos.

Steve hadn’t seen it coming, but he wasn’t surprised. Everyone who’s anyone gyrated around Stark’s disappearance.

A gun cocked under the table.

Steve frowned. “We’re on opposite teams again?”

“You tell me.” Natasha chewed, popped her gum obnoxiously. He felt the barrel against his thigh.

“The hair-do,” he lauded. “Almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Best place in Vladivostok.” She gave him a once-over. “They have a barber, too.”

“What are we playing here, Natasha?”

“A game you didn’t read the rules for, apparently.”

He sipped at his coffee. Maybe no milk had been a mistake. A bitter aftertaste settled on his palate. Over-extracted grounds.

“And you’re here to talk me out of it?”

Natasha smiled, but the gun stayed in place.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

* * *

  
It was dangerously familiar. A treacherous visit down memory lane. The two of them, boondocks road trip, a daredevil conspiracy to be uncovered.

He flipped open the manila folder, thumbed slowly through the 8x11s, transcripts, booking confirmations. Beside him Natasha fondled with the gear stick, switching lanes.

“Are you sure?”

The question was rhetoric. She was a formidable blood hound.

“He’s gotten better at wiping his tracks. A lucky draw on my part. Or maybe a deliberate slip on his.”

“Potts and Rhodes are still off the radar?”

“Can’t get a read on them. The AI is down too. Servers are a bust.”

They turned right, a gravel road bound for nowhere.

Steve closed the files on Helen Cho’s profile.

He rode shotgun with the many-faced woman, searching for a guy who regularly gave death the bum steer.

And they merely traipsed around the iceberg’s tip.

* * *

Seoul was a mash-up of historic temples and palaces and cutting-edge technology of the 21st century. Steve looked out at the winding curves of Han River, to where their target hovered on the opposing bank.

Natasha, plush bathrobe and hairdryer, was taking a stab at idle talk.

He felt the mattress plunge as she sat down next to him.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

It wasn’t evident what she was playing at. Not the fourteen-hour flight, he reckoned.

“Star-spangled man with a plan turned renegade freelancer,” she prompted. “Quite the professional retraining.”

He huffed. “Says the wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

She wasn’t swayed. “You thought this through? What happens when we find him?”

Vibranium against gold-titanium alloy, Steve thought. It seemed the only mode of communication left between him and Tony Stark these days. From the look she gave him, Natasha thought along the same lines. He wondered how much she knew about the fallout after Leipzig. She’d mentioned Russia. He was curious if her jaunts had taken her to Kosvinsky Mountain Range, where the five remaining winter soldiers lay shot in suspended animation.

“I’ll think about it when we get there,” he said gruffly.

“Because that worked out so well last time,” she reminded him.

He raised an eyebrow. “And your plan is?”

“Avoid having to ID both of your corpses.”

“Natasha Romanoff, the mediator.” He let it play on his tongue. “Sounds off.”

“Sounds about like the best deal you can get.”

He laughed, but the humor was lost on him.

* * *

 

Helen Cho was not hard to track down for a woman who was involved in questionable affairs. After the Ultron catastrophe she had withdrawn into Korea, pushing the boundaries of science from her Stark-funded U-Gin facility.

Keeping tabs on her was straightforward work. Cho was, as all of her peers on this level of brilliance, a through and through workaholic. Steve shadowed her from home to work to a late social call while Natasha burrowed through her flat.

They hit paydirt on the third day in.

An early clock out, an unusual detour, hasty glances over her shoulder. Helen Cho might be a prodigy, but she wasn’t a very talented undercover agent.

They dogged her footsteps to the edge of town, industrial district, where she disappeared in a stereotype abandoned building. Steve thought it couldn’t get much more cliche than that.

They hung around on the periphery. Cho emerged half an hour later, after which she pursued her customary way home. Steve exchanged a glance with Natasha, but they seemed to be of the same mind on this one.

Helen Cho had ceased to be a figure of interest.

* * *

“No activity whatsoever. We nose around soon or the trail goes cold.”

Natasha had conjured up a construction plan of the facility. Never completed it was a concrete could-have-been on the outskirts of a booming metropolis. A siren-song for the local low-life, Steve was sure.

“We can breach here, here, or here.” He circled the viable access routes.

“I was thinking more of a shushed recon,” Natasha said. “I’ll be in and out before you’ve got the morning coffee brewing.”

“I’m not a rhinoceros, Nat.” He crossed his arms defensively. “I can do stealth just fine.”

“I’d rather not attract too much attention, that’s all.” She gestured vaguely at his holdall. “You’ll have to leave the regalia behind.”

Steve wasn’t in a particular mood for a patriotic get-up anyway.

As far as the world was concerned Captain America had hung up his boots. It was reminiscing, more than anything.

“Let’s go,” he said.

It was time to pull up a chair to the table of Tony Stark’s high stakes game.

All-in or Fold, where the thrill built as fast as the cards were dealt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the extended hiatus, guys. This story will continue, but I've been pulled into an epic joint work that grew from a three-sentence plot bunny into a +100k saga and it's taking up most of my creativity atm. If any of you are into Avengers AUs dealing with the possibility of Tony never making it back through the portal after the Chitauri battle I can only invite you to give it a try: [**Beyond The Walls Of Sleep**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12854667)
> 
> Otherwise I hope you stick with Strangers! It's a bit of a slow build, but I promise it's totally going to be worth it!
> 
> Let me know what you think!


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